u/Naive-Chocolate-586

I was watching One Hour Photo with Robin Williams, playing as a character that was severely SA'ed as a child (one of my utmost favorite movies - it's the lush cinematography (I used to work at a Kodak store in the 00's), music, storyline, monologue, and Williams' portrayal of what it's like, inwardly, to be a survivor of this horror (minus his actions); I watch it to find comfort in someone being able to relate to my constant state of isolation, grief, dejectedness, collapse, desire to be adopted into a different reality, etc), and people on YouTube comment about his experience, being completely cognizant of how this abuse permanently and maybe even irreparably does lifelong damage...

If people know this, why doesn't society do this one MINOR change that would do much to prevent all of this from happening?: Train school guidance counselors, from elementary to high school years, to be able to recognize signs of the abuse and to constantly reach out to students (not parents only). Hire many more such counselors at schools. When I moved to the US, into middle school, I didn't even know what these counselors were there for. My country didn't have these. If only one of them had asked me, "How are you doing? How are things at home?" - all of this would have been prevented.

WHY ISN'T THIS A THING?

I had 2/3 a half glass of white wine at 8pm. 2 hours later, heart still beating like I'm on a very bad acid trip. Does anyone know how long it will last?

Last time I had a tiny bit of alcohol was a month ago.

I have reusable cloth floor steamer pads that get utterly filthy. I have pets and a bug infestation. What's the best way to wash them at a laundromat that leaves the machine as clean as possible for the next customer?

Soprano vocalists: whether active or not, if you have been blessed to be able to retain your timbre thanks to HRT (my voice was sounding rough, to my utter horror, right before I got on HRT at 45 - I was sure I was losing it forever), if you've been on hrt for a long time, has your vocal register naturally begun to change, or has hrt prolonged the life of your soprano register far longer than you thought it would have?

There are some types of music that have a magical effect, especially at night. You lay in bed, listen to them, then you think of the stars above, and you can feel time passing. It's been a while since I've had this musical awareness of time passing. I was listening to "secrets (slowed to perfection)" by julez, and I realized that I will probably never again see my childhood friends again - fate tore me from my beloved homeland - and that in about ten years, some of them will start passing away, and I will not know it. Childhood shared with them was so magical. I cannot believe that it will never return.

I wept. The music was a haunting reminder

I work at a place where people keep a professional distance from one another, so I can't tell them that I'm in perimenopause. I'm on HRT that works very well and largely keeps rage at bay, except for highly stressful incidents at work - once every few months. I'm in security, mostly chill, and we prevent damage to priceless artifacts. A very stressful incident happened, where two tourists were about to do damage and didn't even care. I'm a quiet person but was alarmed, and raised my voice to get their attention so much that it boomed across the room, then yelled, "that barrier is there for a reason." It didn't phase them one bit. I could have simply told them. I don't know where the rage spilled from.

Acouple of tourists sympathized. However, a colleague on the same shift saw this happen. She didn't like me before, for some reason. Now she likes me even less. It must be jarring to be presented with something so incongruous with how I always present myself - quiet, sweet, demure VS banshee. I don't like her ether, but I worry about what she thinks now. Any help appreciated

It's probably specific to general cptsd? Or freeze? Either way - I just left my friend 5 WhatsApp voice notes, desperate for their advice, and instead of jumping on the voice note he has recorded for me, I keep re-listening to what I said, over and over. I do the same with messages. I re-read mine, instead of reading his. It's like I marvel at who this person actually is. Like she's completely separate from me. It's addicting and intensely satisfying to recognize that this is ME. I think??

Tf?

I find it very curious that as a child, I longed for deeper conversation. Children around me spoke of very ordinary, mundane things, and I'd feel a bit alienated observing it all, because I yearned for the deeper. Looking at fellow children, as if though they were "children."

I must have been 8 years old, when I peered into the night sky and observed a moving star. I exclaimed that it was a satellite; first time I'd ever seen one. The other kids and teenagers laughed, and said that it was just a star. But I know what I saw.

Is this inherent to being HSP?

Watching "Spotlight," about the investigation behind the massive Catholic sexual abuse scandal. This quote jumped out at me

He was 50 when he passed - which is actually young. He would always say that if he were to die tomorrow, he'd be a happy man, because the life he had lived was so incredibly rich and fulfilling. And here I am, and I haven't yet lived my life. It hasn't even started. I haven't [yet] bloomed. In any single area. It's like dark forces have bound my hands, feet, the fire in my belly, and taped my mouth and eyes shut. Just sharing to relay what Freeze can do to a person, and how it can siphon away one's years

This sub is helpful, but few posts get replies. Does anyone at all identify, understand, empathize? I don't know why this aspect of surviving this is possibly the most painful for me: existing as a modern day leper. If people, particularly fellow women, don't know about my background, they can smell something off about me right away. Which is why I've given up on even going out to mingle around strangers. If they do find out, like any normal close friendship, or romantic relationship, or marriage would, they start treating me like a blight in the fabric of reality; someone to look down on; an enormous burden simply for existing. It's happened time, and time, and time, and time again.

Tell me, please, how do we get rid of our viscous, sticky tar of shame, when constantly shamed by everyone around us for being a survivor?

At this point, I don't even know what "best friend" means, and I get insanely jealous when people tell me that they have multiple best friends...

I've been fully back in the workforce for 7 years now. I've taken notice of how there is something about every single place that eventually feels depressing to me. I worked at an animal clinic, and though it made me feel alive, I found the repetitive tasks absolutely depressing. I work at a professional place now, and though it has many merits and pays better than ever, something about how seriously everyone takes themselves (versus my previous workplace), how much me and my colleagues are looked down on by those above us, how stifling everything feels, is absolutely depressing. I've never had a job where I didn't feel, on some level, depressed by it. Is this a function of CPTSD Freeze, or being highly sensitive?

Anyone relate to any bit? Thoughts/Feelings?

"It hurts me so much. The fact that:

My roommate (who, from everything I have seen and sensed and observed and intuited, from the past two years, is not a beautiful person - and I have met beautiful souls before) takes such good care of herself and her surroundings; treating herself like the world's most expensive treasure. Even though inwardly, she is anything but.

And I, having been told so many times that I have a beautiful, kind, gentle, sensitive soul, treat myself so incredibly horribly. Like trash.

If either of us actually deserves good self-care and self-respect, it should be me."

(For clarification, my previous roommate was a narcissist and a sociopath.)

Hey guys, my primary care doc thought I could benefit from preventative measures against migraines, and recommended I try Amitriptyline (instead of the Sumatriptan I've been using). Thing is, I've been tapering from Sertraline for 9 years, and my brain won't be able to introduce anything additional that indirectly works on mood. Is it an antidepressant??

Everywhere I look for a description of what sexy actually means, "confidence" is the top reason behind sexiness. It's asinine. I was sexy from age 13. Maybe before the abuse, at age 12, too, judging by reactions from peers. (Whether or not the abuse influenced this, I don't know, but it did make me hypersexual.) I wasn't confident, in any sense. Why tf is confidence associated with sexiness?

I often go through periods of silent resentment of strangers, coworkers, etc... everyone living out their lives in blissful ignorance, but mostly: because they have all abandoned me to rot, to be completely alone, forgotten, without any family, or friends, or support. I need so many life rafts right now. They're not even interested in knowing why I'm usually so sad. They. Just. Don't. Care.